


Tilt

by yoursecretbattle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Locked In, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6060073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoursecretbattle/pseuds/yoursecretbattle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blizzard hit, in the two hours they were under, which sent half the world’s water over in convenient snow-form, to cover the city. It’s going to take a while to free them, because most of the city is likely just as trapped as them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tilt

Arthur’s mind screams at him that something is wrong at the same time as his consciousness knows everything is fine. His vision swims dangerously as he watches, poised across the road in the middle of tropical California; as Eames stands and shakes the Man’s hand for the last time.

Arthur is seated across the street, watching; ready to lend a hand, or a gun, if the situation goes sour. But the mission seems to have gone according to plan if the handshake is any indication. Which is lucky because the world starts to tremble and shake around him. Time’s up.

Eames, right now is a gorgeous, leggy brunette; who has been plying the mark with drinks and touches for the last few hours and leading the young man on a tale of his childhood and wow, how could such a young man develop such a dangerous weapon?

The young man in question is a Russian university student, no older than nineteen, who has reportedly developed the world’s most advanced missile guidance system. In his living room. In the middle of Russia. 

The world tilts now, and Arthur trips sideways as part of the sky falls down to the Earth. The bar Eames and Alexander were seated in is trembling violently now, as Eames looks up and makes eye contact with Arthur a second before everything vanishes.

 

Arthur blinks his eyes open to the familiar sight of the hotel room and a beeping coming from somewhere around his feet. The PASIV. He blinks again, groans and jerks himself erect, tugging the needle out of his arm as he goes. Next to him, Eames is doing the same, back to his usual self now in the waking world. Arthur steps over the PASIV as it stops beeping and starts to count down again; to where Ariadne is just blinking her eyes open, still sprawled on the ground; IV still inserted in her arm. 

He crouches down and shakes her gently. “Hey, come on we’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got..” he looks down at his watch, hand coming up from her shoulder, “two minutes.” Two minutes before Alexander is set to wake up from his crumbling dream world.

“Yeah, yep. I’m good.” Ariadne responds and starts to move as well, much more awake. 

Dom is already on his feet and heading towards Yusuf who is at the door, beckoning at them silently to catch up. 

Arthur turns back to the PASIV device, and helps Eames pack the last of it up, before he turns to the still sleeping man on the bed. A minute to go. 

He beckons to Eames to get out as he continues to count down in his head. Forty seconds left and he slides the needle out of the prone man’s arm, packs the tubing into the device, closes the lid and legs it to the door. He slips past Eames who, hand on the doorknob, closes the door, quickly and quietly right behind him. 

They freeze there together for a moment, listening. No shouts of alarm, just the quiet sounds of a person rousing from deep sleep. Arthur lets out a sigh and bumps his shoulder against Eames’ and shoots him a raised eyebrow. _Get what we needed?_ Is the silent question.

Eames just shoots him a cocky grin back, sending his own shoulder into Arthur’s and sauntering silently away. Guess that’s a yes then.

 

They all hit the lobby at different times, from different exits, trying to blend in and not appear as if they know each other. That doesn’t last long. 

Ariadne and Dom are supposed to leave first, followed by Arthur and then Eames and Yusuf last. 

When Arthur hits the lobby though, Ariadne and Dom haven’t left and they don’t look like they intend to leave any time soon. 

It takes only a few moments for Arthur to figure out why. 

He moves closer to them slowly, and by the time he reaches them, Eames and Yusuf have reached the lobby and are headed their way. All Arthur can do though, is adopt Ariadne and Dom’s dumbfounded expressions as they stare out the window. He doesn’t think it blows their cover though, because most of the guests in the hotel lobby have the same look on their faces.

“Well that’s different.” Eames quips next to him. Arthur can only nod.

There’s a wall of snow covering the hotel lobby doors and windows, almost to waist height.

“I think we have a bit of a problem…” Dom’s always good for stating the obvious. 

 

It’s hard to get any information from the hotel staff; only Ariadne and Arthur have a semi-grasp of the Russian language and even then Arthur is only making out one in every three words the hotel receptionist is blasting at them. 

After a while of this, they eventually gather that a blizzard hit, in the two hours they were under, which sent half the world’s water over, in convenient snow-form, to cover the city. It’s going to take a while to free them, because most of the city is likely just as trapped as them.

So they’re all stuck here, in this hotel, for the foreseeable future; with the man they just extracted information from while in dream-state. And if that wasn’t enough, the hotel was short on rooms, because the four of them weren’t intending on staying there. They were headed straight for a plane back to France. 

 

Being trapped in a small hotel room with someone for 12 hours was a nightmare. Being trapped in a small (ok, admittedly it was quite large, with a hot tub and everything) hotel room with Eames for 12 hours, was living _hell._

The man had the most annoying habits. Like flinging his clothes all over the room as he disrobed, and leaving the bathroom door open as he showered. And the talking! Constant, British jibbering. Plus, the man snored in his sleep and Arthur was already going on about 26 hours awake, excluding the hour they had spent traipsing around Alexander’s subconscious, and he would be damned if Eames’ sleeping habits were going to wake him up every few minutes. He needed to get another room .

Eames was talking again. Still. As he stood in the bathroom door, glistening wet and wearing nothing but a towel. 

The man was the devil and Arthur needed to get another room. 

“Arthur, love, are you alright? You’re looking a little dazed.”

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his name, his eyes flicking back up to the poorly clothed Eames. Arthur’s gaze suddenly found Eames’ breastbone and then seemingly got stuck. A water droplet freed his eyes, and his gaze travelled with it, down through the dip between Eames’ pecs, up over the ridge of his ribs and then down, down, down that tight abdomen, until the droplet was suddenly destroyed by fabric. 

Arthur almost startled in surprise. 

“Arthur?” 

Eames’ voice was definitely concerned now. And he was coming closer. 

Arthur shook his head to focus his thoughts. “Ah, yeah… yeah I’m fine. I just need to sleep.” he shook his head again at this, “I need a private room so I can sleep.” He said the last almost as a whisper.

Nevertheless, Eames must have heard him, because he chuckled. “Am I keeping you awake?” There was that cocky grin again.

Eames was much closer to him now, having moved from the bathroom to stand before Arthur; he was almost close enough to touch. 

But then the grin faded and Eames’ voice grew softer. “Sleep, darling. You look like you’re about to pass out.” And then Eames stepped closer, reached out a hand and pushed him gently down onto the mattress, until he was lying stretched out on the double bed. “How long have you been up for, hey?” Eames rumbled to him. 

The other man didn’t wait for an answer before he was tugging and grunting, getting the covers out from underneath Arthur and then spreading them around him. He was closer now than ever, standing beside the bed, partially bent over, and their heads were barely a foot apart. 

Eames looked up from arranging the duvet and their eyes locked. Suddenly Arthur felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything as long as Eames held his gaze. Eames looked shocked for a moment, before affection replaced it and he slid his hand up to cup Arthur’s head. 

Eames leaned down slowly, so slowly Arthur thought he might suffocate himself from holding his breathe for so long, and then Eames brushed his lips over Arthur’s forehead. “Sleep, darling.” He said, and patted Arthur’s shoulder once more before he walked back to the bathroom. 

 

Arthur blinked awake again, this time with no memories of a mission behind his eyes. Just hazy images of Eames with him. Cuddling in bed? Strange. 

He shifts to move out of bed and shake off the weird dream, when he simultaneously notices the light rumbling sound tripping on an off through the hotel room, and the heavy weight pressing down on his side. 

Arthur shifts slightly once more to check. Yep, that’s definitely Eames squashed up to his back, arm thrown over his waist, snoring softly.   
Just great. 

He doesn’t want to lie here all day, but if he moves and wakes Eames he knows the _talking_ will start again. Plus, they’re stuck in the hotel and there’s nowhere for him to go anyway. 

And the light snoring is kind of cute. Something for him to tease the other man about anyway. 

So he settles back down and if he pushes further back into Eames’ embrace, well there’s no one here to see him do it. 

Except Eames apparently, as the snoring suddenly cuts off and Eames shifts beside him, his arm tightening around Arthur’s waist. “Mm, morning pet.” He murmurs next to Arthur’s ear and digs his face into Arthur’s neck. 

The absolute smugness in Eames’ tone has Arthur jerking away from the other man’s grip.

“I hate you.” Arthur says to him, no heat behind his tone.

Eames blinks his eyes at him, “Aww, don’t say that darling. Wasn’t I good enough for you?” 

The bastard smirks at him, as Arthur huffs and gets out of the bed. Stupid, pratty Englishmen.   
God, he hopes the snow has been cleared today. 

 

They have no such luck. The hotel staff tell them it’s going to be another day at least, and the others decide it’s best for them to stay in their rooms, to avoid coming across the mark.

Great, another whole day with Eames.

 

The day goes pretty much as expected; with Eames entertaining himself by trying to drive Arthur crazy, and Arthur trying to convince himself why killing the other man would be a bad idea. He’s running out of reasons.

 

Arthur’s reading, (like he’s been trying to do most of the day), when Eames interrupts him, _again._

“Care for a little dip in the hot tub, darling?” 

Arthur glances over the top of the book to find Eames leaning against the bathroom door, fully clothed this time. Surprising. And a little disappointing.  
“Why?” Arthur shoots back and goes back to his reading.

“Why?” Eames sounds contemplative now, but Arthur doesn’t look up at him. “Oh, I don’t know, Arthur.” Eames’ tone has turned deceptive and suddenly his book is snatched away from him and Eames is standing over him, looking expectant. “Maybe because there’s nothing else to do in this hotel room?”

Arthur crosses his arms, where he’s reclining on the bed. “I was just doing something else, Eames.” He shoots a pointed look at the book now in Eames’s hands. He keeps his tone pure calm, even though all he feels is impatience. 

“Yeah, must be a really exciting book, seeing as you haven’t turned a page in an hour.” Sarcasm drips from Eames’ voice. Suddenly his expression turns cheeky and he hands the book back. “Fine. Suit yourself.” The cocky tone is back as he turns away and whips his shirt off. “If you need me, you know where to find me, pet.” He’s two steps from the bathroom door when his pants fall down around his feet, and Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the sight that is Eames’ glorious, naked back if he tried.

Well, ok, he does have a point; the book is boring and he could use a bath, really. He sits and debates his options for a few moments, until he hears splashing and Eames starts to sing. Loudly and off key. 

Ok then. 

The singing comes to an abrupt end as soon as he reaches the bathroom. Arthur doesn’t pause to contemplate his decision, just strips off his shirt and drops his trousers and briefs until he’s standing in front of Eames completely on display. 

Eames whistles lowly in appreciation and Arthur just rolls his eyes at him and steps into the massive tub, settling in next to Eames.

And as soon as he’s in, he groans loudly and drops his head back to the edge of the tub, closing his eyes in satisfaction. The hot water is exactly what he needed and he can feel the tension seep out of his body. 

He can hear Eames chuckling softly next to him and right now Arthur isn’t annoyed at him _at all._

In fact, as soon as he realises that, he starts to notice the movement of the water around him, where Eames is fidgeting and then all Arthur can think about is the completely naked, wet Eames, seated directly next to him. Within touching distance. 

“Eames.” Arthur says and is going to continue, demanding he stop moving, but as soon as the name is out of his mouth he realises the game is up; the desire in his voice is thick and blaringly obvious. 

Arthur lifts his head slowly and opens his eyes, hoping Eames has missed it; but when his gaze locks on Eames’ he knows it’s over. 

But Eames doesn’t look surprised or shocked. He looks smug. _Again._

“Yes, pet?” And then deliberately caresses Arthur’s chest with his eyes. 

And that’s it. Arthur has had enough of denying himself this and lunges for Eames, smashing their mouths together, half climbing on top of Eames; wet, slippery, delicious skin sliding together. 

Eames just grips him, one wet hand going to Arthur’s head and pulling him in tighter, doing something wicked to Arthur’s mouth with his tongue. Arthur moans out loud and then Eames is chuckling and Arthur has to pull back to glare at him.

“What?” he asks, indignant. 

“I knew you didn’t hate me.” He replies, smirking again, and Arthur has to roll his eyes before he fits his mouth back over Eames’, figuring it’s the best way to shut the Englishman up.

 

It takes another day before the snow is cleared enough from around the city for the four of them to get to the airport; which means another whole day of being holed up in a rather large hotel room with Eames. _And it’s brilliant._


End file.
